Tears in the Truth

Chapter 37 - Darkness In The Essence

There is no sleep

when novelty comes in waking,

when the night is dizzy with stars

and the moon masquerades as

the sun.

I can count my veins

how they buzz, thrum,

rhythms of blood,

of dream.

I see the monster's face in the gaps between light and shadow,

while walking the streets of Brooklyn, on the tube, to looking down from a high-rise in Dubai,

in the sea-foam caught on rocks by the Sea–

I see your face

where you could never be.

and all I can wonder

is if you can see me.

Another night, of late night editing,

midnight oil burned, charred,

candle wick— blazing red

black like tar — sipping on coffee,

black like tar — car alarm,

screeching in rhythmic

intervals,

neighborhood screaming, star-shadowed arrhythmia —

as my goddamned writing

refuses to sync.

When I find myself perilously awake, I am usually twitching,

fidgeting,

body possessed with haunted energy

that isn't mine at all

my mind is fleeting and drowning

and I have quite forgotten how to fly

or swim

or simply

be

Well..

the street lamps are dark and the neighbors have finally collapsed,

 into their drunken slumber and the clear sky is still,

but there are coffee rings on my nightstand,

and melted candle wax,

and half-finished senten—

sketched on the curves of my hands.

So...

why can't I sleep?

why can't I sleep?

why can't I sleep?

why can't I just sleep?

Sometimes I forget

that there are so many stars

there are so many voices that

drown out the symphony of eons

the lullaby of distance

I need to feel the dark and quiet

the weight of lives forever gone

blinking from beyond death

desperately reaching for anyone

anyone at all—

sometimes I need to remember

that I can be anyone

at all